


Nextwave: Agents of H.A.T.E. Crossover Special of L.O.V.E!

by Jennifer-Oksana (JenniferOksana)



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003), Nextwave (Comic)
Genre: Crack Crossover, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-05
Updated: 2015-10-05
Packaged: 2018-04-24 21:33:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4936129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JenniferOksana/pseuds/Jennifer-Oksana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Shockwave Rider has rescued President Laura Roslin and her stolen Cylon, Six, from the Beyond Corporation’s latest marketing plan. While they travel on to their next adventure, they make THE SMALL TALK. Also THE SEX.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nextwave: Agents of H.A.T.E. Crossover Special of L.O.V.E!

“So who’s the middle-aged white lady who looks like that politician who looks kind of like the mom from Donnie Darko?” asks Tabby, popping her gum as she notices one of the new travelers on the Shockwave Rider.

“The politician who kind of looks like the mom from Donnie Darko,” Monica answers dryly. “President Laura Roslin, meet Tabitha Smith. Tabby, shut the ☠☠☠☠ up.”

Tabby glares, feeling this is not fair.

“I didn’t say nothing yet!” Tabby complains, unaware of the irony of the statement. “All I was gonna ask was if it was true that she got it on with her hot stepson who looks kind of like a gay porn model.”

“That’s precisely why I told you to shut the ☠☠☠☠ up, Tabby,” Monica says, looking around the Shockwave Rider. “It’s too quiet in here. Where’s Aaron?”

“Like, licking his blinky diodes over that robot babe who’s on the ship,” Tabby says with a shrug, chomping on her gum and completely failing to link the robot babe with the movie-star-resembling woman who is watching her blow a bubble. “Please. Do we really care where the masturbating robot freak is?”

“My kind does not LICK ITSELF to achieve that foul state fleshy ones call sexual satisfaction,” Aaron shouts, apparently able to hear any insult aimed at him. “In addition, the Captain has stolen the exceedingly superior robot female Number Six and is attempting to charm her with his wit and copious amounts of beer that my robot brain needs more than his fleshy sexual bits.”

Tabby rolls her eyes. “Whatever. Just cuz you got cockblocked…” she calls. Then she looks around. “Hey, are there any other new people around? Like, anyone who might have the hook-up or a celly charger?”

President Laura Roslin, possible stepson-☠☠☠☠ who looks rather like the First Lady from Independence Day (I bet you thought we were going to mention Darko again, ha!), watches her putative rescuers argue over who has her extremely valuable Cylon robot model.

And considers putting in a call to Dirk Anger.

Not seriously and only for a minute, of course. Dirk Anger remains a ☠☠☠☠ing incompetent, and President Laura Roslin, for all her tendencies to look tearful and anguished when the chips are down (either a bad habit she acquired from her days of wrangling small children OR a politically brilliant move that allows her to look like a tearful, out-of-her-depth soccer mom while outplaying everyone else) has no time for incompetents.

Especially not after the Adama men, and not after President Laura Roslin discovered Dirk Anger’s attachment to a certain dress.

It reminds her too much of the fantasy Gaius Baltar detailed to her when he’d finished chugging a bottle of ambrosia on the eve of his execution for general ☠☠☠☠ness and collaborating. There had been a pointer involved, and lots of sexual positions that President Laura Roslin thought were possibly impossible, and one that she KNEW was impossible, having tried it during an impossibly boring session of the Colonial Senate.

(Though afterward, the presidential-ministerial sex atop the Opposition Party’s front benches had been a sort of bliss that the not-yet-mastermindful Laura Roslin still remembered with a smile, despite the consequent three-hour splinter removal.)

“Six is not a sex-bot,” President Laura Roslin says, trying to remember why she’d drifted off into her favorite sordid sexual memories. “I know that you people have this idea that female robots are all nymphomaniacs who will have kinky sex with _anything_ resembling a ☠☠☠☠, but it’s just not true.”

Except that it turns out to be entirely true in this case, and the sudden moan makes President Laura Roslin wonder if her own sexual past might owe something to maybe, possibly, being a Cylon.

“Yeah, you got a little Captain in you?!” the Captain shouts from the dank back quarters of the Shockwave Rider. “You and the Captain, makin’ it happen!”

It would explain so many things, including the time she got turned on by Kara Thrace petting the blackbird ship _Laura_ and had to excuse herself to ‘meditate.’

Except that she is the leader of her people and hates all Cylons, so it would be the height of dramatic irony for her to be a Cylon in a twist that would shock and anger viewers during a six-month summer hiatus. Thus, of course, it is impossible.

Cylons don’t anguish over breast cancer. Not even as brilliant ploys. Never.

The remaining crew, aware that they are being left out of some flashbacks, turn to look at the president and their hostage-slash-charge.

“You were saying?” Monica asks with a raised eyebrow.

“Flesh-pervert!” Aaron shouts. “My robot ☠☠☠☠ is at least two inches more impressive than the Captain’s! It can do things the fleshy ones never dreamed of!”

Tabby’s bubble pops. “OMGWTF, ew, ew, ew!” she shrieks. “D00d, that’s disGUSTing! Monica, can we like, neuter Aaron? I don’t want to know that he has a robot ☠☠☠☠ that can do things.”

“Nobody does,” Monica says, wondering where Elsa is, and wishing that she were right there with her. Possibly with hard liquor. “So, you were saying?”

President Laura Roslin pauses. Considers the situation. And decides that if you can’t beat ’em, to enjoy the ☠☠☠☠ out of telling all your stories.

“I was saying that while he is not my stepson, I did have lots of kinky sex with Lee Adama,” she admits, rolling her eyes, sitting down, and waving Elsa, who had agreed to shadow Tabby while they were getting her used to a new person on the ship, over.

“Really?” Tabby asks. “Is he any good?”

“Tabby…” Monica groans.

“Don’t interrupt, fleshy one,” Aaron calls. “I am interested in this chronicle of intergenerational fleshy perversion. Unlike the one going on in the Shockwave Rider, which is the bad kind of perverse.”

“Come off it, blinky diode licker,” Elsa says. “You got cockblocked, mate.”

President Laura Roslin laughs again, but with an edge that reminds everyone that a grown-up is talking.

“I will tell you all,” she says with a smile. “Do you have any alcohol that’s not made from lizard squeezings or Mr. Stack’s inner parts? I tell stories better with alcohol.”

No, she thinks as the girls hurry off to do her request, robot brains certainly…wouldn’t be _improved_ by alcohol, and therefore, President Laura Roslin simply cannot be a Cylon.

She is almost entirely certain of this.


End file.
